


Tumblr Prompts

by KaelinaLovesLomaris



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy, Star Wars: Rebellion Era - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Baby Luke, Darth Vader Lives, Darth Vader Redemption, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emperor Piett, Emperor Vader, F/M, Family, Fluff, Gen, Happy Ending, Hugs, Humor, Nightmares, Romance, Slavery, Suitless Vader, TIE pilot Luke, Trauma, Vader is very touch-starved, but I'm really bad at writing romance, never play sabacc for dares
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-03
Updated: 2017-06-08
Packaged: 2018-09-14 11:17:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 16,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9179176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KaelinaLovesLomaris/pseuds/KaelinaLovesLomaris
Summary: A collection of unrelated Star Wars ficlets, from tumblr prompts. New "chapters" will be added as I get new prompts, and I'll update tags as I go too.





	1. things you said with no space between us

**Author's Note:**

> Some of these are kinda... eh. I'm not great at writing romance, so I don't know that those ones are very good, but I did my best.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This first one the prompt was "things you said with no space between us" for Han/Leia.

“Leia,” Han murmured into her ear. His breath whispered across the skin of her neck, stirring the little hairs too short to twist up into her elaborate braids. His hands skimmed along her arms before coming to rest on her hips and she sighed as she leaned her head back against his shoulder, pulling her back slightly away from his chest so she could see his face in the darkness.

“What, Han?” she growled. He gave her his best crooked smile and her frown deepened in response. That wasn’t going to win her over this time.

“Will you forgive me?” His voice was low and quiet with just the right amount of roughness to make Leia’s heart stutter. She let Han’s hands at her hips pulled her back against him, eliminating the small space between them, but she steeled her face and gave herself a moment to calm her heart before she responded. She wasn’t going to let him off so easily this time.

“I’ll think about it,” she said, giving him her haughtiest senator voice.

“Leia, sweetheart – ”

“Don’t ‘sweetheart’ me, nerfherder, until you figure out how to get us out of here!” she snapped. She crossed her arms, managing to elbow Han in the side as she moved. He grunted and shifted his weight behind her.

“It’s not my fault!”

She tried to step on his toe, but as she was already standing on his foot, it didn’t do much good.

“Oh, really?” She rolled her eyes. “Whose ship is this again? Whose ridiculous smuggling compartments?”

“You can’t blame – ”

“I can, and I will. I don’t even know _how_ you managed to get us trapped in here, but I’m not going to be civil to you until you figure out how to get us _out_.”

It was Han’s turn to sigh. “They aren’t meant to be opened from the inside. We’ll have to wait until Chewie gets back.”

“Of course,” Leia groaned.

Han moved his hands from her hips to wrap his arms around her waist and he lowered his head to kiss the side of her neck.

“Can we at least make the most of this?” he murmured against her skin. His kisses sent shivers through her and without thinking she tilted her head to the side to allow him better access.

“You did this on purpose, didn’t you?”

She should pull away, put her foot down, refuse to let him seduce his way back into her good graces, but his lips were distracting as they kissed their way up her neck.

“I can neither confirm nor deny that statement, Princess,” he growled softly in her ear.

“Oh, Han,” she sighed, before closing her eyes and surrendering to his touch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m so sorry. I was thinking of beautiful romantic things, and then suddenly this situation popped into my head and wouldn’t leave. It’s just such a Han and Leia thing to have happen.


	2. "I love you" from very far away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The prompt was "'I love you' from very far away" for Han/Leia.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, I'm not the best at writing romance.

The weeks following Bespin were hectic, or at least Leia made them hectic for herself. She threw herself into her work, devoting every spare moment, every spare thought to the Alliance. They were still reeling from the defeat on Hoth, struggling to gain supporters in the wake of the Imperial propaganda and replace equipment destroyed or left behind during the battle. She fussed over Luke, worrying about his hand, his missing lightsaber, the distance in his eyes, and the lies she knew he told about the confrontation with Darth Vader.

Anything she could do to avoid thinking about Han.

She didn’t want to remember how her heart had beat frantically in her chest the first time he kissed her, the way her hands had trembled despite her vehement denials. She didn’t want to think about how he had jealously stolen her hand away from Lando and how it had sent little flutters straight to her stomach. Or how he had not even hesitated when confronted with Vader, but whipped out his blaster and started shooting despite the futility of it. Or the way he had stared at her before he crushed his lips to hers even as he was pulled away by the stormtroopers. Or her words to him before he disappeared in a cloud of acrid steam and emerged encased in carbonite. She did not want to remember the pain on his face or his cocky last words that held so much more meaning than what was on the surface.

But in quiet moments, when she ran out of things to busy her hands and mind with, when Mon sent her to rest, before the sleeping pills kicked in, she would wander out to the _Falcon_ and curl up in the pilot’s seat, hoping the cloth still held traces of his scent. She would run her fingers over the controls, feeling the surfaces polished by his hands touching them countless times. There was evidence of him everywhere, if she took the time to look, and if she closed her eyes, she could almost hear him, almost imagine him walking up behind her and dropping his hands on her shoulders.

Then she’d open her eyes and the image of him would vanish, dissipating like smoke on a breeze, and she’d remember that he was gone, stolen from her by Darth Vader, the Empire, the bounty hunter, Jabba… it didn’t matter. He was gone now, and it would be easy to blame Lando, or Luke, or herself. But that didn’t matter either. It didn’t matter because she would get him back. Whatever it took, however far away he was, however tightly he was locked away, she would get him back. And every time she looked out at the stars, searching each point of light as though they spelled out his name, she remembered her last words to him and whispered them again, across the vast distance of space, hoping that somehow he could hear her.

“I love you.”


	3. "I love you" with a hoarse voice, under the blankets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The prompt was "'I love you' with a hoarse voice, under the blankets" for Luke and Vader.
> 
> This is _**NOT**_ incest, I promise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this one gave me some serious trouble, and I ended up going full AU with this. Basically, suitless Vader because Mustafar went differently, and then he managed to track down Obi-Wan and reclaim baby Luke. Vader took out Palpatine pretty quickly and is now Emperor. Luke’s about five or six here.

Vader woke to the gentle swish of his bedroom door opening. He was instantly on alert, the product of instincts cultivated over years of war and multiple assassination attempts since he had taken control of the Empire almost six years ago, just a week after his confrontation with Obi-Wan on Mustafar. But the gentle shuffle of small, bare feet on the carpet made him relax. He did not move or open his eyes, waiting for Luke to clamber up into the bed next to him. The mattress barely dipped under the weight of his son’s tiny body.

“Daddy,” Luke whispered. He poked Vader’s shoulder and Vader smiled as he rolled over to look at Luke. The child’s eyes were wide, his hand trembling where it rested on Vader’s shoulder.

“Hello, little one,” Vader murmured, his voice rough from sleep. “Another bad dream?” Luke nodded, rubbing at his eyes. He sniffled. Vader extricated his arm from under the sheets and ran his hand over his son’s fluffy blond hair. “Come here.”

Luke slipped under the covers and curled up against Vader’s chest, snuggling in close. Vader wrapped his arms around him, holding him tightly and tracing gentle patterns on his back as Luke buried his face in Vader’s sleep shirt.

“What happened?” Vader asked. It had been awhile since Luke had crawled into bed with him after a nightmare. He usually dealt with them on his own, too stubborn or selfless to bother his father with them. It didn’t stop Vader from _feeling_ his troubled sleep though.

“You were gone,” Luke mumbled, his voice difficult to hear, muffled as it was by the fabric of Vader’s shirt. Ah, so that explained why Luke had come to him, needing reassurance that he was still here. He pushed Luke away from him just enough so he could tilt the child’s head back with gentle fingers under his chin. Luke met his gaze with bright eyes, his face barely illuminated by the dim glow of Imperial Center from the window. Vader ran his thumb across Luke’s cheek, brushing away tears, and leaned down to kiss the top of his head.

“I am right here, Luke,” he murmured against Luke’s hair. “I am not going anywhere.”

Luke nodded again and grasped Vader’s hand where it rested against his face, pushing it away so he could return to snuggling up next to him. Vader laughed softly. He watched Luke settle in before he began playing with his hair, threading his fingers through the silky locks and smiling as the action soothed his son. Luke’s breathing evened out as he drifted closer to sleep.

Just as his eyelids fluttered closed, Vader whispered, “I love you.” His voice was husky from emotion and sleep, and Luke’s lips twitched into a tiny smile, though Vader was unsure whether Luke had really heard him or not.

He watched Luke sleep for a long moment before he allowed his own eyes to drift shut. Luke would be there when he woke up, probably still curled up against him, and he knew that both of them would have slept easier tonight, both of their nightmares chased away by the other’s presence.


	4. "I love you" in a way I can't return

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The prompt was "'I love you' in a way I can't return" for Luke and Vader.  
> The prompt technically had a choice between "in a way I can't return" and "as an apology." I went with the one I did because this idea popped into my head and wouldn't leave. :) But I also have a nebulous idea for the other one (as a kind of sequel to this one) that I might write someday as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is entirely different from what I usually write. It’s in 1st person, canon-compliant, and the style is very different. But this is what demanded to be written, so here it is. Warning: feels ahead.

You said it in a way I could never return, with your head held high despite the cold metal of the binders around your wrists. You said it with each step and breath matched with mine, with your eyes as you looked at me without fear or hatred, the first person to do so in over two decades, and with your back turned to me despite the lightsaber in my hand. It is buried in your words, pleading and innocent and commanding. It’s a demand for me to listen and hear and respond.

I hear you, my son, but I cannot respond. Not like you want me to.

You don’t say it out loud, but it drives your every action. And I cannot reciprocate, with words or deeds. My tongue has forgotten the taste of those words, though my heart is beginning to remember the feel of them, and my mind no longer understands freedom. I am chained, my son, and despite your pleas I cannot break them.

You want me to run away with you, and your words are an echo across the decades. I was too blinded by power then, and now I am too powerless. I cannot protect you. You should not have come here. You should leave now, abandon me. My beautiful son, if you stay you will die. If you flee now, I will not stop you. I cannot live in your bright light, but neither can I bear to see it snuffed out, either in death or in the shackles of shadow that bind my own soul.

I try to tell you to leave me, but your willful stubbornness does not see my offer for what it is. You continue to push, hopeful that if you say just the right words, you can convince me. You will not succeed, because although you can see the outline of the chains, you do not understand that they are all that is holding my broken life together.

You will not back down and I cannot rise up to meet you. I no longer have the courage or the strength to stand against my Master. I lost them when you fell at Bespin, though you couldn’t have known and I do not blame you. So I tell you that it is too late for me, and I send you away because I cannot look at you anymore without shattering at the thought of everything I have put you through.

Your parting jab stings, but I see it for what it is, a last-ditch attempt to awaken a part of me long dead, to galvanize me into action. Anger-driven yet born from an injured love. But I am not who you think I am, and despite your bound wrists, you are more free than I have ever been.

And even as you walk away from me, flanked by stormtroopers, your head still held high, the words you haven’t said are written beneath the lines of disappointment on your face, disappointment because I still cannot bring myself to admit that I hear you.

I still cannot show you that I love you.


	5. Vader comforting Luke with the Force

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Vader comforting Luke with the Force. Feel free to set this wherever."  
> I decided to put this in _Allegiance_ -verse, so some variant of this scene _WILL_ show up later in _Allegiance_.  
>  I don't think it's necessary to read _Allegiance_ to understand this (though if you're here reading my tiny tumblr prompts, you're probably following me for that fic anyways).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was the first thing that popped into my mind with this prompt, as the events surrounding this are something I’ve been working on here and there for a while now. It’s darker than what you were probably wanting, but what can I say? I’m a bit sadistic as an author. I tried to avoid making it spoiler-y, but I hope it’s not too vague either.
> 
> This doesn’t happen for a while yet, but there’s a reason for the violence warning and teen rating on _Allegiance_. The aftermath of what happens is not pretty. I promise none of this is Vader’s fault.
> 
> Basically, Luke has recurring nightmares/flashbacks of a traumatic event. He’s currently sleeping on a couch in Vader’s room because he feels safer when he’s closer to his father.

Luke’s terrified scream cut off as quickly as it had started and Vader was standing before the datapad he had dropped even hit the desk. Luke bolted upright on the couch, chest heaving as he woke from his nightmare, and Vader called his name gently. His son turned towards him at the sound of his voice, but Vader recognized the wide-eyed, blank stare and knew that Luke wasn’t seeing him.

“Luke?” He took a few slow steps closer but stopped when Luke scrabbled for his lightsaber and held it out between them, the unlit hilt shaking in Luke’s trembling hand.

“No,” Luke muttered, shaking his head sharply with each syllable. “No, no, no…”

“Luke, I am right here,” Vader said. He forced his anger under control, knowing that it would only make things worse if Luke felt it. It would do no good now anyways. The ones at fault were already dead, except one and he was currently out of their reach.

His son did not seem to hear him and Vader cautiously reached out along their bond. For once, Luke’s mind was unguarded. His shields lay in shards like glass at the edges of his mind, shattered either by the force of the memories or Luke’s subconscious in an attempt to reach for help before the flashback took hold. Either way, Vader was grateful. It would make this easier than usual.

 _“Luke?”_ he asked. His son blinked, and the hand holding the saber lowered the tiniest fraction, but his eyes still did not focus on Vader. _“Luke, I am right here. You are safe. Look at me, Luke. Listen to me.”_

Luke blinked again and dropped his hand back into his lap, releasing his grip on his lightsaber as he did. Encouraged, Vader took another step forward.

 _“You are completely safe, Luke.”_ He continued to murmur comfortingly to Luke through their bond, attempting to draw him out of the flashback, bring him back to the present. He did not dare try to touch his son’s mind outside of the bond, fearing the intrusion would cause Luke to close his mind off or that the memories would ignite Vader’s rage. He also did not want to be pulled into the flashback with Luke, which he suspected was possible if he was not careful, considering the strength of their bond.

Vader wrapped his Force presence around Luke, holding him in a gentle, protective embrace and he felt Luke relax a tiny amount in response to the touch. He took another few steps closer, pleased when Luke did not become defensive again.

“Luke, my son,” he said out loud, adding his physical voice on top of his mental entreaties. “I am right here. I am real.” Luke closed his eyes and shuddered, bringing one hand up to grasp at his hair. Vader was now within arm’s reach of Luke and he touched his son’s shoulder gently, barely brushing his fingertips against him. Luke flinched away, but a choked sob escaped him and he curled up, drawing his legs up close to his chest.

 _“Father?”_ he pleaded, flailing for Vader across their bond. Vader caught him, mentally supporting him as he reached out to touch Luke’s shoulder again. This time, Luke leaned into the contact. Vader knelt by the couch, not heeding the protest from his legs, and wrapped his arm around his son.

 _“I am right here. You are safe,”_ he promised again. _“I will not leave you.”_

Luke flung himself at Vader, startling him with the suddenness of the motion, and clung tightly to him, his arms around his neck and hands grasping at the fabric of his cloak.

 _“I’m sorry, Father,”_ Luke murmured, burying his face against Vader’s neck, despite that the rigid armour could not have been comfortable.

 _“Do not apologize.”_ Vader held him close, one hand pressed against Luke’s back, the other in his hair. _“It is not your fault.”_ Luke trembled against him and clutched him tighter for a moment, and Vader wished fiercely that he was not encased in the suit, just so he could comfort Luke properly, let his son have real human contact instead of this leather and metal parody of skin and bone.

Luke pulled away from him, keeping one hand firmly twisted in the edge of Vader’s cape where it rested on his shoulder, and shifted to curl his legs under him. He moved the blanket as well, clearing a spot on the couch for Vader to sit. Vader brushed his fingers along the right side of Luke’s face, tracing the new scar that marked his skin there.

 _“You know you are safe?”_ Vader asked. Luke nodded and tugged on his cape. Vader smiled faintly under the mask at the gesture. He could not stand without knocking Luke’s hand free of the cape, so he reached up and carefully disentangled his son’s fingers from the fabric and threaded his own through them instead, knowing the physical contact was keeping Luke grounded. He did not let go of his son’s hand until he was settled on the couch and Luke had maneuvered himself under his arm, snuggling up to Vader’s side. Luke curled up, his head nestled against Vader’s chest, and sent a wash of gratitude to Vader over their bond.

 _“I will never leave you, little one,”_ Vader promised, running his thumb in soothing circles along Luke’s upper arm. Vader felt Luke nod against his chest and relax just a shade more. His son was no longer shaking and Vader stayed with him, holding him, until Luke’s breathing evened out and his mind slipped peacefully back into sleep.


	6. happy ending

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one is also in _Allegiance_ -verse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, after writing the angst-fest that was the last prompt, this was a bit of a challenge. :) It’s a bit flowery and poetic towards the end, and it’s a bit short, but I had a hard time writing a free-floating ending without context. Of course, I know _how_ it’s going to end, but not how I’m going to _write_ the ending, and even if I did… well, I’m not going to give it all away right now. :D

The death of Palpatine had not immediately fixed all of the Galaxy’s problems, as much as Luke might have wished for it to, but it had opened the door for the healing to start. It would take time and a lot of effort to restructure the government and break the system of corruption that had begun long before Palpatine took power, but in the hands of people like Leia and Mon Mothma it was possible. For the first time in almost thirty years, there was hope for peace in the Galaxy.

It wouldn’t be easy, Luke knew, for people to accept that his father had returned to the Light, and there would always be people clamoring for justice to be handed down on the former Sith for his actions as the Emperor’s enforcer. But they were alive, they were alive and the Emperor was dead and they had each other, and Luke knew that they would be okay. Whatever came next, whatever they needed to face, they would face together and they would overcome, because they had already faced the worst that the Galaxy could throw at them and emerged on the other side, battered and bruised but not broken, never broken. No, they had walked through the fires of hatred and returned whole and victorious.

And that was more than he ever could have expected.


	7. "I love you" loud so everyone can hear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The prompt was "You said platonic 'I love you' prompt? Wedge+Luke 15 [loud so everyone can hear]"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is _so_ overdue, and I’m _so_ sorry. I had a really hard time writing the humor in this one. Apparently I can’t write romance or humor. But the idea was too perfect to discard, so I stuck with it. I hope it was worth the wait.

Luke watched the entrance to the mess hall, gnawing on his lower lip as he waited for a glimpse of Wedge’s dark hair. He could feel Wes’s laughing stare on the back of his head and stubbornly ignored his fellow pilot. He wasn’t going to give him any more reason to make fun of him than the already ridiculous situation required.

It was his own fault, he supposed. Han had warned him not to gamble when he played sabacc. He wasn’t good enough at bluffing, and his increasingly lighter pockets had attested to that fact. Perhaps if he had a better grasp of the Force, he could use it to his advantage, but that was probably something Ben would have frowned upon and he _didn’t_ have a good enough understanding of the Force anyways, so it was a useless thought.

He really should have heeded Han’s advice, but he had been _bored_ , and the Rogues could be merciless in their teasing if they put their minds to it, commanding officer or no, and it hadn’t seemed worth the fight at the time. They had stopped playing for credits anyways; they were _all_ broke, as the Alliance did not have a lot of funding to spare to pay their pilots any sort of decent wage. And none of them were here for the money in any case.

Wedge stepped into the mess hall, deep in conversation with Tycho, and Luke tried to worm his way out of the situation.

“Oh, look, he’s busy. I wouldn’t want to interrupt – ”

“Not a chance, Commander,” Wes laughed. “We sent Tycho to go get him.”

Luke sighed. “I should have you all brought up on charges of harassing your commanding officer,” he muttered. He tracked Wedge and Tycho’s progress across the room, wanting to wait until they were a little closer.

“Those charges wouldn’t stand, sir, and you know it,” Hobbie replied cheerfully from the other side of the table. “You agreed to this.”

“I was coerced!” Luke protested. “But you’re right. We’re too short on pilots. Speaking of which, you’re all flying extra patrols for a month.” Wedge had stopped now and was talking with one of the female techs. No, flirting was probably a more accurate word for what he was doing. Luke watched as Wedge leaned his hip against one of the tables and smiled at whatever she was saying.

“Aw, Luke, you wouldn’t,” Wes wheedled. He leaned over in his chair to get closer to Luke. “Come on, Commander.”

“I might be willing to reconsider if you drop this nonsense,” Luke said. He grinned as Wes grumbled next to him. Tycho had pulled Wedge away from the tech and they were moving closer across the room again. Luke was running out of time to sidestep this disaster.

“Tempting, sir, but I think this is worth it,” Hobbie said. He returned Luke’s annoyed gaze with a smirk.

“You are all insubordinate mynocks.”

“Come on, Commander. If Wedge gets any closer, you won’t have to do more than whisper.”

“That’s a _good_ thing,” Luke protested.

“But not what you agreed to.” Wes poked him.

“I did not _agree_ to anything!”

“Just get it over with, sir,” Hobbie said.

“Fine,” Luke said through clenched teeth as he stood up. He found Wedge and Tycho, only a few tables away now and glared at Tycho when the Alderaanian met his eyes.

“Hey, Wedge!” he shouted, and felt his face heat up as most of the people in the vicinity turned to look at him. Wedge looked over at him too, a question on his face. “I love you!”

Luke didn’t meet Wedge’s eyes long enough to watch his reaction, but dropped back into his seat and crossed his arms on the table, burying his face in them.

“I hate all of you,” he muttered to Wes and Hobbie, but he doubted they could hear him over their laughter.

No, they hadn’t been playing for credits, but Luke still should have known better than to play against the Rogues for _dares_.


	8. before the beginning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The prompt was "before the beginning" for _Allegiance_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we’re back to the angst with this one! Sorry, that seems to be my default. There’s not a lot to work with, since _Allegiance_ -verse doesn’t really deviate much from canon before the start of the story, so here’s Wedge dealing with Luke’s post-Bespin nightmares.

Wedge wasn’t quite asleep yet when Luke screamed. He turned his head to see Luke roll over and bury his face in his pillow. His friend was shaking, and while the pillow was doing a good job of muffling the exact words, Wedge could still recognize the cadences of Luke’s repeated denials. He had heard them often enough, first after Yavin, then Vrogas Vas, and now Bespin.

He kicked back his covers and moved across the room to Luke’s bunk, making his footsteps heavier than they needed to be. He sat on the edge of Luke’s bed and carefully touched the other pilot’s shoulder. Luke flinched away from the contact and Wedge quickly withdrew his hand.

“Luke?”

“No!” Luke shuddered and suddenly sat up, whipping the pillow at Wedge. Wedge didn’t react fast enough to stop the pillow from hitting him, and he was glad that at least this time it wasn’t something that would injure him.

“Hey, hey, Luke, calm down,” Wedge said, grabbing his friend’s wrists tightly to stop him from striking him. “Luke, hey, you’re safe. It’s me. It’s Wedge.”

Luke froze for a moment and then shook his head sharply. His arms went limp in Wedge’s grasp and he bowed his head.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” he murmured. Wedge released his wrists cautiously and Luke covered his face with his hands.

“It’s okay, Luke. Do you want to talk about it?” Luke’s next exhale sounded more like a sob and Wedge closed his eyes for a moment. It was times like this, seeing his commander broken and hurting, realizing how young Luke really was, that he remembered again why he hated the Empire so much. He had been there for Luke’s first nightmare after Yavin, that first night when Wedge couldn’t sleep because every time he closed his eyes he saw the faces of the dead. They hadn’t really known each other, back then. But there had been no one else left and they had clung to each other out of necessity, once the Princess had consented to medical care and the smuggler had retreated to his ship with his Wookiee copilot. Han had offered Luke a place on the _Falcon_ , of course, but Luke had shaken his head and muttered something about bringing back memories of Ben. So Wedge had offered Luke the other bunk in his small room and hadn’t had the heart to tell the kid that Biggs had been his former roommate.

Wedge hadn’t said anything that night, unsure how to, or perhaps unwilling to, comfort a kid who had lost far less in the battle than he had. Of course it hadn’t taken long for Wedge to realize that Luke had lost far more than it had seemed on the surface. It had been a few years, but Wedge had not forgotten the pain and rage brought about by the loss of his family, and it was then that he realized why he recognized the haunted look in Luke’s eyes. And a few nights later, when Luke had woken with his aunt’s name torn from his throat, Wedge had offered him his shoulder and his ear.

Now Luke shook his head, rejecting that same offer. It had been like that since Bespin. Whatever had happened to him there, he refused to talk about it in a way he never had before. Wedge’s eyes were drawn to the faint line on Luke’s right wrist, barely visible in the dim light. Synthskin grafted well, but it always left a small mark, if you knew what to look for. Wedge doubted it was the injury that kept Luke from talking. Everyone knew that Vader had taken his hand, and his father’s lightsaber, in their duel. If it was just that, Luke would not be so reluctant. What else had Vader done to him?

“I didn’t mean to attack you,” Luke mumbled, pulling Wedge from his musings.

“Luke, you hit me with a pillow. It’s not a big deal.”

Luke raised his head to meet Wedge’s eyes. They both knew Luke would have tried to kill him if Wedge hadn’t restrained him. He groaned and leaned forward to drop his head onto Wedge’s shoulder.

“I’m so sorry, Wedge,” he said.

“Hey, it’s okay.” He wrapped an arm around Luke, holding him for a moment. “Is there anything…” Luke shook his head against Wedge’s shoulder, his hair brushing against Wedge’s neck as he did. “Okay.” He moved his hand to the back of Luke’s head, pressing him to his shoulder for a second longer before releasing him. Luke pulled away from him, scrubbing at his face with his left hand. His right, Wedge noticed, he had dropped back into his lap and he was subtly clenching and unclenching it. So the dream definitely _had_ been about Bespin.

“You good?” Wedge asked, his voice low with concern.

Luke nodded. “Yeah. Thanks, Wedge.”

“Okay.” He set his hand on Luke’s shoulder again for a moment before standing and returning to his own bed.

Long after they had both settled down and supposedly gone back to sleep, Wedge watched Luke through half-closed eyes as his friend stared up at the ceiling and rubbed absentmindedly at his right wrist. Wedge trapped a sigh before it could escape. It appeared that this was one of those nights that Luke would not be able to return to sleep.

Luke’s eyes flashed as they caught the dim light when he turned his head slightly to look at Wedge. “Go to sleep, Wedge,” he murmured. “I’ll be fine.”

Of course Luke would be able to tell that he was still awake. Wedge frowned at him but rolled over to shut out the sight of the insomniac pilot. He was tired enough that once he actually closed his eyes, his guilt and worry about Luke weren’t enough to keep him awake for long.


	9. a paragraph of hugging

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I had a request for "a paragraph of Luke and Vader hugging." Well, this is a bit more than a paragraph. :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vader is, perhaps, a bit more touchy feely than I might normally write him at the beginning of his relationship with Luke, but since the prompt demanded hugging, I went with it. Our favorite Sith _is_ touch-starved, after all, and if there was less personal bad blood between the two of them when Luke learned, then, well. Luke might be more receptive.
> 
> Also, since apparently I didn't make it clear enough in the text itself despite my attempts, this takes place less than a year after ANH, so over two years before Bespin would have happened.

“Stay back!” Luke shouted, holding one hand out as though it could ward off the Sith slowly advancing on him and wishing he hadn’t lost his grip on his lightsaber. He could see it on the ground behind Vader, where it had fallen after Vader had twisted it out of his hands with a flick of his own red saber. He might have been able to pull it to him with the Force if he was allowed time and space to concentrate, but he didn’t have enough training, and he dared not take his eyes off his… father? No, Luke shook his head. It had to be a lie. Less than a year ago Ben had told him Vader had killed his father. Why would he trust the word of this monster over his teacher, his father’s best friend? Vader had to be lying, trying to turn his loyalty or throw him off balance enough to get him to lower his guard.

“Luke, it is the truth,” Vader insisted, taking yet another step towards him. Luke matched his steps backwards, keeping the distance between them. Vader had deactivated his lightsaber and returned it to his belt, but that did nothing to assuage Luke’s fears. He knew the Sith did not need a blade to kill him, and right now he feared capture more than he feared death.

“No… it can’t be.” Luke shook his head furiously, trying to dislodge the creeping sense of _truth_ he could feel in his mind. “No!”

He took another step back and bumped into the wall. He had cornered himself, or rather _Vader_ had cornered him. He turned his head away and squeezed his eyes closed, causing the moisture that had been building up to run down his cheeks as tears. He flinched at the brush of leather against his cheek, but the touch was gentle, and Luke let out a shuddery breath when Vader’s hand moved to push his hair away from his forehead. His gloved fingers raked through Luke’s hair and he shivered, still not daring to look up at Vader.

“You are my son, Luke,” Vader said. He continued to run his fingers through Luke’s hair and the repetitive motions were making Luke relax slightly. It was soothing and reminded him of his aunt, even if the man currently standing in front of him was nothing like her.

“Then why did you never come back for me?” Luke asked before he could stop himself, the whispered words holding all the pain of an abandoned orphan. He had always longed for his father, and even now that he knew his father wasn’t who he had thought, he still _wanted_ him, still wanted to be wanted _by_ him. He knew he shouldn’t, he knew Vader was a Sith and a murderer, even if he hadn’t killed Luke’s father. He was the Emperor’s enforcer, a black shadow of death on the battlefield, and yet…

“I would have,” Vader said, his voice slightly softer than it had been, though Luke thought that perhaps that was his imagination. His hand stilled in Luke’s hair, resting gently at the back of his head, but Luke made no move to shake free of it. “If only I had known to. I have been looking for you ever since I learned you survived.”

“Survived?” Luke whispered.

“I thought you dead with your mother,” Vader replied. “I only realized you lived when I heard your name.” He moved his hand from Luke’s hair to touch the side of his face briefly before turning Luke’s head with gentle fingers under his chin. “Look at me, my son.”

Luke forced his eyes open to stare at Vader. He was impossibly close, much closer than Luke had ever wanted to be to the Sith. Luke tilted his head back just a bit to meet the faintly red-tinted lenses of the mask. He could not see anything behind them, could not know for sure if he was meeting the Dark Lord’s eyes, but still he could not hold the eye contact for long and he dropped his gaze.

His eyes flickered over the chest panel, which was just below eye level for Luke, the blinking lights and buttons close enough to touch and he suddenly wondered why such an important part of Vader’s life support system would be so visible, so accessible to sabotage or damage. The significance of Vader standing there, the only vulnerable part of him so openly exposed to Luke, hit him hard, and his next breath came out as a sob.

“Luke?” Vader asked, and Luke could swear he heard a hint of concern in that regulated voice. Vader released his chin and his hand moved to cup the side of Luke’s face, his thumb swiping away the remnants of tears on his cheek. Luke ignored the almost fussing motion and slowly reached out a hand to touch his father’s chest. He kept clear of the control panel and instead rested his palm against where his father’s heart would be. The armour was too thick for him to feel it beating, but he still marveled at this, that he was allowed this contact and that his father was really, truly alive.

Vader’s other hand came up to rest on top of Luke’s for a moment before the hand on his face was gone and suddenly his arm hooked around Luke’s waist and pulled him close. Luke gasped at being unexpectedly caught up in an embrace, and Vader stilled for a moment, his grip slackening minutely before Luke wrapped his own arm, the one not caught between them, around his father. He buried his face against his father’s chest, clinging tightly to the tabard with his trapped hand, not caring that the edge of the control panel was digging into his side. Whatever else Vader might be, he was his father and he wanted him.

“My son,” Vader said, holding him closer and returning his other hand to the back of Luke’s head, gently keeping him pressed against him. “You are my son.”

Luke guessed the repetition was as much Vader’s way of marveling over it himself as it was meant as reassurance for him, and he realized he had not yet returned the verbal acknowledgement.

The word stuck in his throat, unfamiliar on his tongue as a title directed at a living person, and his first attempt was little more than a murmur to Vader’s suit that even _he_ could barely hear. But his next try was audible and he somehow felt Vader’s shock as he called him father for the first time.


	10. three sentence fics - random

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> These next few chapters are a collection of "three sentence fics" that I have been working on for the past few weeks. Not all of them stayed three sentences, some of them definitely got away from me.  
> They've been grouped by general topic. This first one is a collection of the random ones, the ones that didn't fit anywhere else. Prompts will be in bold before each ficlet.

**Hi, pleease write a 3 sentence fic with: 1) Pairing: Vader and Piett 2) AU setting: working together\helping each other to escape a dangerous situation**

Secretly retrieving Lord Vader after one of his unsanctioned, Piett assumed, solo missions chasing after Skywalker was nothing new; in fact, it was a fairly common occurrence, but having their shuttle shot down by pirates and crashing next to their hideout was anything _but_ usual.

The damage to their shuttle was repairable, Darth Vader insisted, though Piett was doubtful as he glanced over at the tangled mess of wires and half-melted durasteel, and Piett had been charged with covering him as he worked to fix it. Though Darth Vader was most assuredly the better fighter of the two, and would have a far greater chance of holding off the rather large gang of pirates closing in on them, there was no way Piett could manage the repairs himself, so he checked the charge on his sidearm, grabbed two extra energy cartridges just to be safe, and, standing with his back to his commander, began picking off the pirates one by one.

 

**Three sentence fic prompt: anything about Ahsoka and Vader**

Ahsoka wanted so badly to deny the familiar tones of the voice beneath the vocoder’s modulation, but she had heard her master say her name too many times to successfully convince herself, and despite the yellow glow of the single eye she could see through the slash she had made in Vader’s mask, she recognized it.

“Anakin…” she whispered, her heart breaking all over again; she had thought her former master dead all those years ago, after Order 66, but to find that he was alive but Fallen… She had failed him, perhaps if she had never left, if she had stayed, she could have helped him, could have prevented this somehow, and she knew she had to do what she could now to fix this.

“I won’t leave you,” she swore. “Not this time. I should never have left you in the first place.”

Vader’s, Anakin’s, whoever he was now, eye widened slightly in what might have been surprise, then narrowed again. “It is far too late for that, Ahsoka.” His voice was rough, strained, oddly amplified by the damaged vocoder, and Ahsoka winced.

“I don’t believe that. I _can’t_ believe that. The Jedi failed me, and they must have failed you too. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you when you needed me. But let me help you _now_ ,” she pleaded. Anakin had been the best of them, and it hurt to see that he had fallen so far. She wanted to understand what had happened, wanted to know what could have pushed her master, who had cared so much about people, to become _this_ , the Jedi killer, a murderer of children. The Anakin she knew had gone against orders to save her, refused to leave anyone, even a clone, behind. That man had to be buried somewhere beneath the armour in front of her.

“You can come back,” she said, blinking away the tears gathering at the corners of her eyes. “You believed in me once, when no one else did. Now I’m going to return the favor. And this time I won’t walk away.”

**For the AU thing: Reversed Twins with Luke as the prince of Alderaan?**

Despite his father’s warnings, Prince Luke Organa could never understand why he was drawn to Lord Vader every time he saw him, whether it was in the Senate building or the rare times the Dark Lord deigned to “visit” them in their palace on Alderaan. There was fear too, healthy fear instilled in him from a young age, when he used to curl up on the couch next to his father and listen with rapt attention to the forbidden stories of the Clone Wars, the Jedi, and politicians like Senator Padmé Amidala whispered in his father’s gentle voice, followed by warnings to keep his knowledge secret and warnings of who and what Darth Vader was: a Sith, a murderer, a dangerous man who would kill Luke if he discovered his Force sensitivity, a talent Bail Organa had tried to keep Luke from awakening, but the Togruta who went by the name Fulcrum said he was too strong for it to remain dormant long, not without help. She taught him to shield his mind, shield his power, and also warned him to stay as far away from Darth Vader as he could, because the man had killed all the Jedi, and he would kill him too, but still Luke watched him when he swept through the Senate halls and wondered why the Force trembled in anticipation whenever they passed each other or the Dark Lord’s gaze drifted across him, and he wondered if Darth Vader felt it too.


	11. three sentence fics - baby Luke

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> These are all set in the same 'verse: Vader raises Luke from a baby.

**Ok, uuuuuuum. Luke and Vader. Raised by Vader AU with Luke (your choice how old) stealing Vader's lightsaber?**

Luke peeked around the corner of his father’s desk, staring up with wide eyes at the shiny hilt of the lightsaber clipped to his father’s belt before glancing over at his father’s mask to make sure he wasn’t looking at him. Stifling a small giggle, he crept closer and reached out with tiny hands to grab at the lightsaber, barely managing to wrap his fingers around the whole of it, even with both hands, but he was stopped before he could get away with his prize.

“Not until you are old enough, Luke,” his father said, plucking the lightsaber out of Luke’s grip without even looking at him, and Luke pouted at having his plans foiled yet again.

 

**I’ll write you a three-sentence fic! How about: Vader & Luke & Lightsaber training???**

Luke couldn’t restrain his silly grin as he followed his father down to the training room, to finally start learning how to use a lightsaber! He tried to wrestle it under control when his father turned to hand him a training saber, knowing this was _serious business_ , and if he didn’t appear to be taking it seriously, Father might decide he was still too young to learn.

The comfortable weight of the saber in his barely-big-enough hands sobered his emotions; he felt a sense of awe like he had the first time he had touched the Force, and he knew he had been born for this.

 

**Kid!Luke pranking the imperials**

Luke giggled, pressing a small hand over his mouth to quiet it as he focused on the man sitting at the desk below where he perched in the air vent. Just as his father’s captain reached for another datapad, it floated out of his reach, obeying Luke’s silent Force command (his father had been teaching him!), and the captain startled, raising a gloved hand to his heart before glancing around the room and finally catching sight of Luke.

Luke squeaked when the captain reached for his comm, losing his grip on the datapad and scrambling back down the vent, hoping to get back to his room before his father came looking for him.

 

**For the 3 sentence fic, how about Piett has to babysit a toddler Luke?**

This was not at all what he had expected when he had signed up for service in the Imperial Navy, and he was fairly certain that “babysitter” was nowhere in his contract, but he wasn’t going to refuse _Darth Vader_ , of all people, especially when he knew just how much the small child tugging at his rank plaque meant to his commander. People had been killed for even _looking_ at Lord Vader’s son the wrong way, so while being charged with the boy’s safety was an honor Piett was not entirely sure he was pleased to have, it was a sign of his Lord’s trust that he appreciated.

As soon as Darth Vader left the room, Luke wiggled out of Piett’s arms -- he _was_ getting rather too big to be held all the time -- and immediately went for Piett’s sidearm.

“No, no, no, no, no,” Piett gasped, catching Luke’s hands before he could pull the blaster out of the holster. The son had just as much of a penchant for trouble as the father, apparently, and Piett briefly considered locking the blaster in his desk drawer, before realizing that it would be unwise to disarm himself when he was in charge of Lord Vader’s son’s safety, just in case something happened.

This was more pressure than he really wanted to deal with right now.


	12. three sentence fics - Vader lives

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> These are all the same 'verse as well, with Vader surviving ROTJ.

**For the 3 sentence fic... Luke and Vader, but for some reason it's Luke who has to take care of/protect his father**

“You’re not executing him,” Luke growled, keeping his body between his father and the gathered members of High Command and an assortment of other curious members of the Alliance, “you’re not touching him, unless you go through me first.”

It had taken all of Luke’s careful persuasion, impassioned pleading, and the last remnants of his own strength just to convince his father to fight for his own life in the hangar bay of the Death Star, not to give up and let himself die there, and now in the Alliance medbay he had no more patience, no more reserves of clever words to bandy about. He was putting his foot down about this; he had just regained his father, he wasn’t going to lose him again, and if the Alliance didn’t like it, they would have to kill him first.

**Vader & Luke where they both survive RotJ <3**

Luke paced outside his father’s room in the Alliance medbay, gnawing at his thumbnail and monitoring not only his father’s Force signature, which was a muted glow in his unconscious state but stronger and more steady than it had been when Luke had dragged him off the shuttle, but also the minds of the swarm of doctors and nurses, gauging them for any sign of ill intent. He had not had the time to vet them properly before allowing them to treat his father, with Vader’s condition as perilous as it had been, but it seemed his hasty assessment of them had been enough, and none of them were contemplating taking advantage of having Darth Vader unconscious and vulnerable in front of them.

Even though he could feel the strength of his father’s presence, he still looked up in anticipation when the door opened and still felt the relief when the doctor nodded at him with a strained but genuine smile on her face.

 

**Leia and Han + Vader survives ROTJ**

Leia hadn’t quite believed it, when she’d heard, that her… _brother_ , Luke was her _brother_ , had brought _Darth kriffing Vader_ back with him when he’d returned from the second Death Star, but now she stared at Luke kneeling next to his… father’s bedside in the medbay of the _Redemption_ , and Han had to grab her shoulders to hold her back when she tried to surge forward and… what? Pull Luke away? Stab Vader through his heartless chest?

“Wait,” Han hissed in her ear, “listen to them.” She stopped trying to break his tight grip on her and instead focused on what her brother was saying.

“– thought you were going to die. I’m not ready to lose you.” His voice was low, shaky, and he held one of Vader’s hands clasped tightly in both his own. Leia grimaced at that. How could he stand being so close to the monster, even if he was his, their, sire?

“It was far better that I die than you, my son. I could not bear to watch him kill you in front of me.” Vader freed his hand from Luke’s and brushed his fingers gently against the younger man’s cheek. Leia shuddered at the thought of his hands touching her again, remembering only the iron grip of his fingers against her shoulders as she watched Alderaan burn. But Luke closed his eyes, a faint, bittersweet smile tugging at his lips, and tilted his head into the contact. “I had to stop him, and I was prepared to die in the process. I fear my survival will only bring you grief.”

Leia frowned. Vader had attempted to give his life for Luke’s? That was difficult to believe. She glanced up at Han, his hands on her shoulders nothing like Vader’s, and found his face equally puzzled, but his eyes were narrowed in thought rather than indignant anger.

“No, Father,” Luke gasped, his ungloved left hand, his real flesh hand, reaching up to keep Vader’s against his cheek. “I have waited my entire life to know you. Whatever this costs, it’s worth it. I have already placed myself between you and the Emperor. Nothing will be worse than that.”

Despite herself, Leia found her curiosity piqued by Luke’s statement. Why would he have had to stand between Vader and the Emperor? Hadn’t Luke been against them both? Hadn’t Vader brought Luke to the Emperor to combine the Sith’s forces against the last of the Jedi? Had Vader turned against – No. Leia shook her head. The thought was absurd, and yet… And yet, the Emperor was dead, and here Darth Vader was, lying on a bed in an Alliance medbay, with the Hero of Yavin kneeling at his side, holding his hand pressed against his face. There was more to this than she knew, even if she did not want to admit it. Even if she would never truly accept Vader as her… biological parent.

“And that was foolish, child,” Vader berated softly, an almost fond note to his rasping voice. “It was not your place to protect me.”

Luke did not answer, merely bowed his head and buried his face against his father’s chest. If he did speak, it was too quietly for Leia to hear, and she had to turn away, unease coiling in her mind at the sight of Luke so openly trusting of Vader, and perhaps a trickle of shame that he was so forgiving and she so unwilling to even contemplate it.

But no, she shoved that aside, firming her resolve. She was obliged to give Vader nothing, and he was not owed anything from her. She might decide to tolerate him for Luke’s sake, since her dear, idiotic brother had so obviously, confoundedly attached himself to the man, but she would give him nothing more. He deserved nothing more, and she would not be made to feel ashamed of this. Not by anyone, and she knew Luke would never push her, though he might be disappointed.

Han squeezed her shoulders, and she looked up at him, knowing her confliction was visible on her face.

“I think,” he said slowly, “we need to find out exactly what happened on the Death Star.”

 

**Vader "playing" with Luke's hair (canon!adult Luke) if you're still doing the three sentences meme, please?**

Luke hadn’t realized he had fallen asleep at his father’s bedside, his head still pillowed on Vad-- _Anakin’s_ chest until he woke, his knees and back _very_ sore from his inadvisable sleeping position, to the gentle touch of a hand running through his hair. He lifted his head, and the hand stilled, though it didn’t break contact, and Luke saw his father’s eyes staring at him from a pallid and scarred face, their pale blue gaze full of amazement and tender care.

Luke smiled at him, and groaned as he shifted his sore body to ease the stiffness in his muscles; he didn’t want to jostle his father’s still-recovering body by sitting on the bed, but there was nowhere else for him to move to unless he dragged a chair in from another room, but that would require him to leave Anakin’s side, something he had no desire to do, not for a long time, so he perched lightly on the edge of the mattress and caught his father’s hand in his own again, indescribably happy to have him with him, alive and safe and _free_.


	13. three sentence fics - Luke and Vader

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A set of prompts dealing with Luke and Vader's relationship. These ones aren't connected to each other.  
> Warning for mentions of slavery in the last one?

**For the three sentences fic. Vader trying to be mad at Luke (23 years old Luke) but he can't because he loves him too much. :)**

He should be angry, no, he should be _furious_ , that Luke had decided to take a TIE fighter out without permission. Didn’t the boy know how _dangerous_ they were if you didn’t know what you were doing, or what if the Rebels had decided to attack, and he was caught out there in the middle of a dogfight, unshielded and unprotected by a wingmate? But the sheepish grin on his son’s lips was not enough to hide the pure joy and excitment radiating from Luke, and Vader was unable to summon the proper rage he should feel in the face of it; after all, he did understand the thrill of flying, and though he would never admit it to his son, he had once been just as reckless.

 

**Vader rescuing Luke?**

Luke was never going to volunteer to scout out old ruins on a new planet for a potential base alone again, no matter how busy everyone else was, he decided, staring up the steep incline he had tumbled down and trying to ignore the pain from his very definitely broken leg. There was no way he could climb back up that collapsed hallway, even without his busted leg, and his comlink had been smashed in the fall; despite his attempts to replicate his call for help to Leia like he had after Bespin, he couldn’t seem to reach her.

Echoing footsteps above him and the telling hiss of the respirator was his only warning before his fa – _Vader_ landed several feet away from him, the force of his landing enough to crack the rock beneath him, and, considering the circumstances, Luke was unable to tamp down his relief at seeing him, his only protest a small whimper when his leg was jostled as Vader scooped him up into his arms.

 

**(For the 3 sentence fic thing) maybe Vader discovering Luke in a thoroughly bizarre situation (pre or post ESB, up to you) that is Probably Dangerous, and Luke is trying very hard not to be relieved to see him.**

If they got out of this alive, Luke was going to strangle Wes; it was _his_ fault that half of Rogue Squadron, including Wedge, had been captured by Zygerrian slavers, and Luke had had to suspend his search for Boba Fett and Han to come flying to the rescue. But now he was staring down a blaster set to stun, with another slaver holding a much more lethal blaster to Wedge’s temple, and Luke let his lightsaber drop. He shuddered as it hit the floor, and tried to ignore the tangled panic in his stomach when the slaver stepped forward with a pair of what looked like Force-suppressing binders, a sickening leer on his face.

Just before the binders snapped closed around his wrists, cutting him off from the Force, he felt it roil with dark fury, and his head jerked up just in time to see Vader crash through the door, his lightsaber blazing as it cut down the nearest slaver. Luke gasped, unexpected relief flooding through him and threatening to send him to his knees; he was already a little dizzy and disoriented from the sudden lack of the Force’s grounding light. His father, and it was still a little odd to think of Vader as his father, even though he knew it was true, was at his side before he could do much more than sway unsteadily, grabbing his arm and pulling him close even as all the blasters in the room were yanked away from their owners and crushed in midair with small explosions. Luke flinched, his eyes darting to Wedge to make sure his friend was alright. The pilot’s dark eyes were wide and there was a slight bruise on his cheek from an earlier scuffle, but he seemed otherwise unharmed.

“I should have allowed those to explode in your hands,” Vader snarled, his low voice vibrating against Luke’s back where it was pressed to his father’s chest, “but that is something _my son_ should never have to witness.”

Luke stiffened, his breath catching in horror as he looked at Wedge again. His eyes were even wider now, if that were possible, and he opened his mouth as though to ask a question but snapped it back shut before he said anything. There was something like confusion around his eyes, but he didn’t look betrayed, though Luke was having a harder time reading him without the use of the Force. He had not realized how much he had depended on it, even subconsciously, until he was stripped of his connection with it. He wanted it back.

He felt Vader tense behind him and shift his grip, pulling Luke slightly to the side and out of the way as he threw his saber, the red blade scything through the air, and Luke cried out as the slaver holding Wedge pulled the pilot in front of him as a shield. But the lightsaber arched back to Vader’s hand after slicing through the rest of the slavers, leaving Wedge and his captor untouched. Luke leaned back against his father in relief.

“Release the pilot,” Vader demanded, pointing his blade at the last remaining slaver in the room. Luke was honestly surprised that none of them had called for backup yet. Perhaps Vader had knocked out the communications on their base, or they had been too caught by surprise at the appearance of the Empire’s Second-in-Command. The Zygerrian sneered and moved so Wedge was even more thoroughly between him and Vader.

“The Empire supports slavery. Why do you care if we take these Rebels off your hands, Lord Vader? You should have no objection.”

Vader growled and tensed again, and Luke feared he was going to throw the saber again, Wedge being used as a shield or no.

“Father, please,” he whispered. Vader ignored him, other than to hold him just a little tighter, the arm around Luke’s waist not allowing him to move away.

“The Empire condoning slavery,” Vader said, his low voice tightly controlled, though Luke feared it wouldn’t take much for that control to snap, “still does not excuse your attempt to enslave my _freeborn_ son, Rebel or not.” Luke gasped at the emphasis, sudden understanding crashing in on him. He’d always known his father had been a slave as a child, but he hadn’t really thought about it in the context of Vader being his father. The two pieces of knowledge had remained separate in his mind after Bespin, the truth of _Darth Vader_ having been a slave a little too odd a concept. Luke doubted the Zygerrian slaver would miss the emphasis, and he was sure he would also know what it meant.

Sure enough, his eyes went wide, his hold on Wedge slackening for a brief second. He opened his mouth to speak, but the momentary distraction was enough for Wedge to slam his elbow back into the slaver’s midsection and break free of his grip. The Zygerrian doubled over with a grunt, and Wedge didn’t hesitate before darting across the room and ducking behind Vader. Luke almost grinned at the ridiculousness of it, but clearly Wedge had decided that the Sith Lord was the lesser of the two threats in the room. A sentiment Luke shared, though he did not appreciate being held _quite_ so close.

 Luke turned his head away, pressing his cheek against his father’s chest as the slaver’s neck twisted at an unnatural angle with the crunch of bone, and he collapsed to the floor, lifeless. Luke shuddered, and he heard Vader’s lightsaber deactivate before a hesitant hand brushed against the back of his head. When Luke didn’t flinch away from the contact, Vader ran his fingers through Luke’s hair again, and the action was oddly soothing. Luke sighed, a minuscule amount of tension draining from his shoulders.

“Foolish child,” Vader rumbled. His tone was difficult to read through the vocoder, and Luke didn’t have the Force to help him interpret, but the hand still in his hair tempered what might have otherwise been a reprimand into something a bit fonder. “Are you hurt?”

“No,” Luke murmured, shaking his head against his father’s hand. “But I... I can’t touch the Force.” He lifted his bound hands, drawing attention to the offending binders.

“I know,” Vader said. “I am glad I was already here when they cuffed you, or else I might have thought – ” He cut himself off and clutched Luke tighter, and even without the Force, Luke imagined he felt his father’s fear at the thought of his death.

 “I am fine, Father,” Luke reassured him, a small, confused smile on his face at the thought of reassuring _Darth Vader_ , of all people.

“Um,” Wedge said, inching around Vader to stand in Luke’s line of sight, “as weirdly touching as this reunion is, would you mind explaining to me just what the _kriff_ is going on?” There was a hysterical edge to his voice, and even clenching his hands into fists didn’t stop them from trembling visibly. He kept his eyes fixed on Luke’s, never letting his gaze wander to Vader, and Luke was acutely aware of how confusing the situation must be for his friend.

“Wedge, uh...” Luke smiled weakly. His mind was racing, trying to think of a way to handle this. In all the varied ways he had imagined Wedge finding out about this, this was certainly not one of them. “Meet my father?” He gave an apologetic shrug, hoping Wedge wouldn’t take this badly.

Wedge’s eyes finally darted up to Vader’s mask before dropping back to Luke’s face. “Vader’s really your father? That’s...” His eyes flickered again. “I don’t... How is that even... What?”

“I’m sorry, Wedge. I didn’t know until recently. Until... Bespin.” He shivered at the memories, his prosthetic hand aching with phantom pain, and he curled it into a fist. Wedge’s eyes were drawn to the movement, and he flinched, no doubt putting together what it meant that Vader had been the one to take his hand.

Wedge gasped in horror. “But if he’s your – ”

“I had no choice,” Vader snapped, interrupting him. “Luke refused to surrender.”

“So you chopped off your own son’s hand?” he demanded. He took a small step forward, and Luke blinked in frightened amazement. Was Wedge really telling off Darth Vader? Was he _trying_ to get himself killed?

“Wedge...” Luke warned, speaking before Vader could. He didn’t need the Force to feel his father’s anger rising, and he didn’t want Vader to release that rage against Wedge.

Wedge took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them again, he focused on Luke’s face. “Are you alright?”

Luke nodded. He was trying not to think about the fact that Vader would not release him once they got out of the slavers’ compound. He had been rescued only to be captured, though he knew he would vastly prefer whatever his father had planned to the life of a slave. He had briefly tasted slavery under Grakkus, though he had tried so hard since then to convince himself that it _didn’t count_. But he was freeborn, and it had still felt like a failure to both his father and his grandmother, who had both escaped slavery in the end. Or so Luke had thought, before he knew that his father wasn’t dead; he wasn’t entirely convinced Vader wasn’t a slave to the Emperor now, and that thought stung.

He had not allowed himself to really contemplate his fate this time, and then his father had swept in and pulled him out before the thought could settle that maybe _this time_ he wouldn’t escape, maybe _this time_ he really would end up back where his family had come from. The first freeborn Skywalker in generations, and this was the third time he had almost been enslaved.

Vader broke through his thoughts, though his choice of subject wasn’t far off. “I assume, considering the length of time they had you, that you do not have a transmitter?” There was rage lacing his voice, audible even through the vocoder.

Luke shook his head. “No, I’m clean.” He looked over at Wedge, who also shook his head. That sent a rush of relief through Luke, and he dropped his head back against his father’s chest.

“Good. Now we are leaving.” Vader finally, _finally_ released his hold on Luke’s waist, though he seized his arm immediately after, and began leading him towards the door he had slashed open. Wedge stood unmoving in the middle of the room, and Luke tugged against his father’s grip.

“Wait!” he cried. “We can’t leave yet. They still have Tycho and Wes and – ”

Vader froze, his hand momentarily tightening painfully around Luke’s arm. “We will retrieve them first, then.” Luke gaped at his father’s easy acquiescence before it struck him that _of course_ he would be unable to leave anyone, even a Rebel, at risk of enslavement.

“Thank you.” Luke lifted his hands. “Can you get these off, please? I’m more of a liability than anything like this.”

Vader hesitated, and Luke sighed. “I’ll go with you, willingly, if you take these off and let my friends go after we rescue them.”

“Luke, no!” Wedge yelled. But Vader was quick to finalize the deal.

“Agreed.” He waved his hand over the binders, and they unlocked with a barely audible click and clattered to the floor. The Force flooded back instantly, almost painful in its intensity, and Luke raised his hands to his head.

“Ah...” he groaned, squeezing his eyes shut against the dizziness, even as the Galaxy settled back to rightness with the return of this missing part of him. Vader’s hands settled on his shoulders, supporting him.

“Luke?”

“I’ll be fine. The Force is just...” Luke gestured vaguely, unsure how to explain.

“I understand,” Vader replied. “It can be disorienting, both to lose and to regain your awareness of the Force.” As the Force settled around him, Luke became aware of the dark nova of his father’s presence pressing against him. It was oddly comforting.

He straightened and nodded. “Okay. I’m good.” He glanced over at Wedge, who was standing with slumped shoulders and staring down at his feet, and Luke knew he didn’t understand. He hoped he would be able to explain before this was over. “Let’s go.”


	14. three sentence fics - Emperor Piett

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A set of ficlets in the Emperor Piett AU.

**Vader makes Piett the "placeholder" Emperor.**

Of all the things he had done for Lord Vader, this was by far the strangest, and the most uncomfortable. His commander had barely finished running his blade through the Emp- _former_ Emperor, before he all but picked Piett up and plopped him on the throne, promising he wouldn’t have to hold this position long, just until he had caught and convinced his son - _his son!_ \- to take the throne.

Now Piett sat alone in his new quarters in the Imperial Palace, staring despondently at the paperwork on this datapad that declared him the stand-in Emperor, and had never wished harder for Skywalker’s capture.

 

**The Rebellion reacts to Emperor Piett.**

Mon Mothma was not quite sure what to think, when she heard the reports that Emperor Palpatine was dead by Darth Vader’s hand, and that the Dark Lord had placed his Admiral, of all people, on the throne in his stead while he redoubled his efforts to locate Skywalker. On the one hand, Emperor Piett did not seem very interested in maintaining Palpatine’s iron control over the Galaxy, and he was significantly less of a threat than the former Emperor had been, but he was also a wild card, and there was the larger issue of just _why_ Vader would suddenly turn on the Emperor. It wasn’t a bid for power or he would have taken control himself rather than crowning Piett, and the temporary status of Piett’s reign left the question of just who was Vader planning on installing permanently?

Mon’s thoughts flickered to Skywalker again, and Vader’s obsessive hunt for him. There was more to it than just the Emperor’s desires, as Palpatine was now dead and yet Vader's desperation had done nothing but increase. It was absurd, but for a moment her mind suggested that perhaps it was _Skywalker_ Vader wanted to place on the throne. She tried to immediately dismiss the notion, after all, it _was_ absurd, Skywalker was a Rebel. But the idea stuck, and she was forced to contemplate it before she could convince her mind to let go of it. _Why_ would Vader want Skywalker on the throne? There was no logic to it. Skywalker would never consent to take the throne, and why would Vader want the son of a man he had murdered as an heir –

She froze. It was utterly ridiculous, and yet... And yet, it made too much sense. Vader _had_ to have been a former Jedi, that was an unspoken that everyone knew, and Anakin had been close to the then-Chancellor Palpatine. And the inexplicably pregnant Padmé Amidala. What if... Mon shook her head, trying one last, futile time to dislodge the thought. Vader was seeking Skywalker to put him on the throne because he was his _son_.

 


	15. three sentence fics - TIE pilot Luke

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a single long one, and the middle section was written by [jedipati](http://archiveofourown.org/users/jedipati).

**Darth Vader and Luke, in a "TIE fighter pilot Luke" AU please? :)**

Vader stared at the profile of one of the new TIE pilots assigned to his ship, a TIE pilot with an impossible name. He never usually bothered to learn the names, or even _look_ at the names, of new recruits because they rarely survived past their first few dogfights, but he had felt the presence of a strong, if untrained, Force-sensitive among them and wanted to know how the Inquisitors could have _possibly_ missed someone like him. But now, with an eerily familiar face staring back at him with an unprofessional, giddy smile from the screen of his datapad, he was unexpectedly _glad_ they had missed this boy, had not killed him, or taken him before Vader had learned his name, and he barely took the time to drop the datapad before almost _running_ down to the hangar to retrieve his son.

~*~

Luke Skywalker knew the best way to survive on this ship was to not gain Lord Vader’s attention.  Do your job, don’t mess up, and keep your head down.

He’d gotten the briefing, along with all the other new pilots just two days ago.

And then Lord Vader stormed into the TIE hanger, and Luke, along with every other pilot, inhaled sharply.

“Pilot Skywalker,” Vader intoned. 

Luke froze, then forced himself to step forward.  “Here, milord,” he managed.  What had he done, to gain Vader’s attention?

“Come with me.”

Luke followed Lord Vader out, amid the sympathetic and pitying glances of his fellow pilots.  He was sure he would never return.

~*~

Luke kept his gaze focused on the trailing edge of Lord Vader’s cape, maintaining enough distance between them to avoid stepping on it while still nearly jogging to keep up with the Dark Lord’s long strides.

He hadn’t even had a chance to fly a single mission yet. When he had thought he’d die in space, he had meant in the cockpit of a fighter, not in a back hallway of a Star Destroyer. Luke wrenched his mind away from the morbid contemplations of his impending demise, but when it strayed to thoughts of his Aunt and Uncle, so far away on their little farm on Tatooine, he wished he could tell them goodbye, wished he had listened to them and never applied to the Academy in the first place, wished he could -

“Luke.” Darth Vader’s voice startled him, and he gaped at the use of his given name. Vader had led him to a deserted hallway, and now he gestured for Luke to precede him into an empty office.

_Away from any witnesses,_ Luke thought, though he wondered why Lord Vader would bother. It wasn’t like he would get in trouble for killing a nobody TIE pilot.

Luke took a shaky breath before entering the office, conscious of Vader’s large frame close behind him. He stopped in the middle of the room and closed his eyes for a brief moment before turning to face Vader. The Dark Lord was closer than he had realized, and Luke skittered back when he raised a hand, even though he knew distance wouldn’t protect him. But Vader froze at his retreat, and he dropped his hand.

Vader’s head tilted just slightly to the side, and Luke had the strange notion that he was being studied. He carefully straightened his body to stand at parade rest, clasping his hands behind his back, and though he tried to remain still, he found himself nervously fidgeting with his fingers.

“At ease, Luke,” Vader said, his tone light. “Relax. I will not harm you.”

Reluctantly, Luke fell out of parade rest, but he could not keep his hands still for long, and he folded them together again, this time in front of him. Vader’s assurance that he would not hurt him had done nothing to ease the anxiety writhing in Luke’s stomach.

“Why did you summon me, my Lord?” Luke finally asked, when Vader continued to stare at him without speaking. He cursed the tremor in his voice.

“Luke Skywalker,” Vader said slowly, as though savoring the name, and Luke frowned. He held his ground when the Dark Lord took a step closer. “The son of Anakin Skywalker?”

Luke startled. How in the Galaxy did _Darth Vader_ know his father’s name? And why was that important? His father had been nothing more than a navigator on a spice freighter, no one the Second-in-Command of the Empire should know. Luke stared up at Vader for a moment before he forced himself to nod.

“Yes, my Lord,” he whispered.

Lord Vader made an aborted motion towards Luke before falling back a step, away from him. “My – ” The mechanical breathing hitched for a moment, and Vader turned his head away from him.

Luke’s eyes landed on Vader’s hands, which were gripping his belt tightly enough to crease the leather. He wasn’t sure what to make of this situation. None of the training seminars had ever prepared him for _this_. But before he could say anything, Vader whirled back around and closed the distance between them with two steps. Luke caught his breath and locked his knees, preventing himself from retreating.

“You are my son,” Vader declared, and Luke blinked in uncomprehending surprise.

“Um,” Luke said, opening and closing his mouth as he tried to process that bit of news and react to it properly. “ _What?_ ” Not his most articulate response, but it was all he could manage.

“I was once known as Anakin Skywalker. I am your father.”

 


	16. three sentence fics - Luke rescuing Vader

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another single long one. Luke finally coming to his father's rescue, rather than the other way around.

**Luke rescuing Vader?**

Luke broke into a run as he finally caught sight of Vader between the trees, slumped down not far from his crashed and still smoking TIE fighter.

“Father!” he shouted, skidding to a stop and dropping to his knees next to him, his hands fluttering uselessly across Vader’s chest. He had never before been so glad to hear the steady, mechanical breathing, though right now it was far too shallow and labored. He had come as quickly as he could, stammering some excuse to Leia that he couldn’t even remember now, as soon as he had felt the fragile brush of his father’s plea against his mind. He had been surprised at the strength of his reaction, at the surge of terror that had ripped through him when he felt how weak Vader was.

Now he reached out and took his father’s hand. He squeezed it gently, relieved when Vader returned the pressure. “I was afraid I wouldn’t -- ” Luke couldn’t finish the sentence. “Where are you injured? What can I do?”

There was nothing obviously wrong with him, no outward injuries Luke could see, and he feared any damage was internal or to his life support.

“Luke,” Vader said, between rasping breaths, “I did not think... you would come.”

“Shh, Father. Of course I came. What happened?” Vader was alone, and there had been no Alliance activity in this system as far as Luke was aware. He should not have crashed.

“My Master was... _displeased_ with me,” Vader replied. Luke frowned. That wasn’t much of an answer. He would need more specific details later, but even without knowing exactly what had happened, his anger flared at the Emperor.

“What do you -- Hey, don’t move!” Luke pushed lightly against his father’s chest as Vader tried to get up.

“You cannot carry me, young one.” The gentle rebuke was accompanied by a hint of humor from his father, and Luke ducked his head to hide a small smile. If his father was well enough to joke with him, he would probably survive this.

“No, I don’t think I could,” Luke agreed. “But let me help you.”

He helped pull his father to his feet and let Vader drape an arm around his shoulders for support, wrapping his own arm around Vader’s waist. His father leaned heavily on him, and Luke drew on the Force to help him bear the weight. Their progress was slow, and the first time Vader stumbled, he almost took Luke down with him.

Luke kept up a steady stream of murmured encouragement, trying to soothe the growing frustration he could sense from his father. Vader did not like admitting weakness, much less showing it, and being unable to walk under his own power had to hurt his pride.

Despite Vader’s shielding, Luke could feel echoes of his pain. He worried at the sharpness of it and was glad they did not have much farther to go before they reached his ship.

“I trust you had the sense to bring more than just your X-wing,” Vader said, his voice weaker than Luke had yet heard it, and he clutched his arm a little tighter around his father.

“I borrowed a small shuttle.” Luke was trying very hard not to think about where he was going to take Vader. He would not trust a civilian hospital, and he did not think his father would allow him to bring him back to the Alliance. Nor was he foolish enough to think the Alliance would willingly treat him. No, bringing him back with him would be more of a death sentence than leaving him here, untreated. That left only one option, and Luke’s mind shied away from it. He knew if he set foot on the _Executor_ , he would not be allowed to leave it. But for his father’s life?

His shuttle finally came into view, and his steps faltered, his body trembling with the strain of carrying his father’s weight, the Force augmentation of his strength notwithstanding. He almost lost his grip on Vader, but held on with sheer willpower.

“Almost there, Father,” he muttered, even though Vader could see the shuttle just as clearly as he could. The encouragement was as much for himself as it was his father. He wished he could have landed closer to Vader’s crash site, but there hadn’t been a clearing large enough.

Luke managed to get Vader onto the shuttle and settled into the copilot’s seat without further mishap, but as he turned away to run the ship’s startup sequence, Vader’s hand clamped around his wrist. Luke stilled and closed his eyes, unwilling to look at his father.

“I need to return to my ship,” Vader rasped. Luke nodded once, feeling his stomach twist in resigned anxiety. “Luke, look at me.”

It took Luke a moment to turn and meet his father’s gaze. “I know,” he said quietly. “I knew that when I came.” Now he regretted the hasty lie he had told Leia. He should have said a proper goodbye, or even told her the truth, even though he knew she would never have let him go if he had.

Vader released his wrist and reached up to tentatively brush the tips of his fingers along Luke’s cheekbone. Luke blinked in surprise but didn’t pull away from the contact. “You will be allowed to leave. I will not keep you,” Vader promised.

Luke released a surprised breath when Vader’s thumb swiped across his cheek, brushing away a tear Luke hadn’t realized had escaped his eye. He captured his father’s hand in his own and bowed his head.

“Thank you.” Relief lifted the weight of anxiety from his shoulders, but he felt a small, sharp jab of disappointment at the thought of leaving his father, and he spent the short flight to the _Executor_ contemplating it.


	17. three sentence fics - Luke captured by the Grand Inquisitor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is yet another single long one. Luke captured by the Grand Inquisitor and brought to Vader on Mustafar.

**3 sentence prompt? Luke, Vader, High Inquisitor. Luke is found by the inquisitorious on Tatooine. (Luke, Vader, High Inquisitor - The High Inquisitor has captured teenage Luke.)**

“Let go of me!” the boy snarled, jerking against the Grand Inquisitor’s grip as he was dragged in front of Darth Vader. Vader normally wouldn’t be involved with a new acquisition until their final stages of training, but the Grand Inquisitor had expressed concerns about this boy’s strength and had called him in – an action he would soon regret, as Vader was in a foul mood at having been pulled from his bacta tank earlier than planned. As much as the scheduled baths were a hassle he wished he could avoid altogether, going through the process of removing the suit and prosthetics only to be pulled out again too soon, soon enough he would have to go _back_ after this little meeting, was even more annoying. The Grand Inquisitor would pay with his life if this boy wasn’t worth his time.

He gave no more than a cursory glance at the boy, noting nothing more than his short height and light coloration, though something familiar tickled the back of his mind at the sight of him, before brushing past negligible shields and rifling through his mind, his memories, searching for anything of use or interest. He could feel the boy’s raw power, untapped potential that was rather startling in its intensity. How had they missed him for this long?

Vader stopped at the sight of vaguely familiar faces in a vaguely familiar kitchen, the boy’s mind helpfully supplying the names Owen and Beru Lars to go with the faces, and an older but very familiar Obi-Wan arguing with them.

Vader took a startled step back. It couldn’t be. The child had died, he had killed it with _her_ …

He looked closer at the boy, whose pained grimace faded as Vader withdrew from his mind, and forced himself to acknowledge the stirrings of familiarity in the back of his mind. The nose could _definitely_ be hers, and the chin was…

Vader reached out to grasp said chin, but the boy recoiled, shrinking back against the Inquisitor behind him. The Pau’an pushed him forward, and the boy stumbled, his wrists bound behind his back throwing off his balance. Vader caught him by the shoulders and steadied him, then seized the boy’s chin and tilted his head up so he could study him. His chest was heaving, his light hair darkened and sticking to his forehead with sweat, which was probably from a combination of the effort of his struggles and the heat in the air on Mustafar. Even if he was used to Tatooine, Mustafar was still a great deal warmer, and the ash in the air made breathing difficult.

The boy shook his head once, trying to break free of Vader’s grip, but Vader only tightened his fingers on his chin, and he submitted, unwillingly if the glare on his face and the indignation in his mind was anything to go by, to Vader’s examination.

A bruise was blossoming on his right cheek, most likely the result of a backhand for either mouthing off or fighting, and even though the red lenses of Vader’s mask did not allow him to see colors properly, he knew the boy’s eyes were blue.

“What is your name?” Vader demanded, releasing the boy’s chin but not retreating from his space. He ignored the surprise emanating from the Grand Inquisitor at the question. Inquisitors had no names, and potential Inquisitors were never asked for theirs.

The boy tilted his head up, masking the fear Vader could feel roiling in his mind with pride and an attempt at a show of strength.

“My name is Luke Skywalker,” he said, and Vader’s thoughts ground to a halt. He had known it was possible, as soon as he saw his old master in the boy’s mind, and despite the physical similarities, he hadn’t dared to hope…

He stared at the boy, child, teenager, he’d be barely fifteen now, his _son_ , and his eyes fell on the bruise on his cheek.

Vader twisted his hand sharply, and the Grand Inquisitor’s neck snapped with the sickening crunch of bone. The boy, his son, _Luke_ startled, spinning around and taking a step back as the Pau’an crumpled to the ground. He backed into Vader and yelped, but Vader grabbed his shoulders before he could run.

“Calm down, Luke.”

He was trembling, his mind a tangled mess of confusion and panic, and he was worrying his wrists against the binders, heedless of the blood that was beginning to well along the scraped skin. Vader touched his hands gently. “Stop. You are only hurting yourself.”

“What’s going on?” Luke asked. He was still shaking, but he _did_ stop fighting the binders.

“I killed him for striking you.” Not the entire truth, but as much as he wanted the boy to know for now. He could not have word of Luke’s existence making its way back to the Emperor. He would need to ensure that the Grand Inquisitor was the only one involved in the boy’s capture.

Luke’s head jerked up, turning to try to see Vader behind him. Vader moved his grip to his son’s arm, allowing him to turn to face him.

“Why?” His voice was barely a whisper.

“You are the son of Anakin Skywalker?”

Luke’s tiny gasp was enough of an answer, but he waited for a nod before he continued.

“Then you are my son.” He reached up to lightly touch Luke’s unmarked cheek, undeterred by his son’s flinch. “And I will not tolerate others injuring you.”

Luke’s eyes widened in disbelief, and he shook his head slowly. “Anakin Skywalker?” He stared up at Vader, his eyes pleading, and Vader didn’t know if he was begging for confirmation or denial. “You’re Anakin Skywalker?”

“I no longer use that name, but it was once mine, yes.”

“You’re my father?”

Vader almost sighed, though he knew the vocoder wouldn’t make much of it but a static hiss. But the boy’s disbelief and confusion were… somewhat understandable. He himself could barely grasp the idea that his child had survived. So many years… He had missed so much.

“Yes, young one.” Vader touched Luke’s face again, reverently, before tightening his grip on his son’s arm. “Come.”

He pulled Luke after him, the boy’s short legs having a hard time keeping up with his long strides, but he needed to get him somewhere safe, and quickly. Somewhere away from his tower on Mustafar, which was crawling with Inquisitors and the Emperor’s Red Guards.

“Wait!” Luke panted, jerking his arm to get Vader’s attention. “My aunt and uncle. They don’t know where I am.”

Despite his urgency, Vader paused at that. “They are alive?” Normally, the guardians of a child… _acquired_ by the Inquisitorius did not survive. They fought back, protected the child too fiercely, a sentiment Vader was now beginning to understand. It surprised and infuriated him in equal measures that the Larses had not seen Luke worth protecting with their lives.

Luke frowned, sudden worry creasing his forehead. “Why wouldn’t they be? I wasn’t home when… when he grabbed me.” There was a flash of remembered fear, sharp against the present low undercurrent of anxiety in his son’s emotions.

Some of Vader’s rage abated at that admission, though now he was presented with the issue of his son’s guardians being alive. They had no claim above his own on the child, of course, as he was Luke’s biological father and in a much better financial situation to care for him as well. It would be fairly easy to prove that Luke had been kidnapped from him as a baby, most likely Kenobi’s doing. It would be a simple thing to regain legal custody of his son. Luke belonged at his side, was destined to be a Prince, to rule the Galaxy, and he would have anything he desired. The only thing standing in their way was Vader’s Master, an obstacle Vader would need to remove sooner rather than later.

“If you were not home, how did the Grand Inquisitor find you?” He still needed to know if the Pau’an was the only one to know, or if other Inquisitors had been involved.

“He was looking for our farm, but it’s difficult to find if you don’t know the area, and he stopped at my friend Biggs’s house, which was where I was, and asked where to find it, and I said that was _my_ farm and what did he want with us, and when he said he was looking for me, he gave me this look, and I just _knew_ that someone was going to get hurt if I didn’t go with him, so I did.” Luke’s words spilled out quickly, tumbling over each other in a rambling stampede. “The Darklighters probably told my aunt and uncle that I was taken by an Imperial, but they don’t really know what happened, and they have to be worried, and I want them to know I’m alive. I want to talk to them.”

It appeared the Grand Inquisitor had been acting alone, which was unsurprising as he had always preferred solo work to going with a team. Vader would not have to dispose of any other Inquisitors, unless others had encountered Luke in his tower before Vader had been summoned. He would need to question his son on that further. Now, however, Luke was staring at Vader with wide, pleading eyes, and he found himself unable to deny the boy’s request. Hadn’t he just sworn his son would have anything he desired? This was not what Vader wanted, nor entirely what he had meant, but he could work on weaning him from his guardians later. For now, it would be best to placate him, if it would get him to leave with him.

“You may comm them once we are away from this place.”

Luke’s eyes skipped along Vader’s mask, as though he was trying to read his face, and he hesitantly nodded. Vader tried to pull him along after him again, but Luke dug his heels in and refused to move.

“Can you… take these off?” He gestured over his shoulder with his head, indicating the binders still fastened securely around his wrists.

Vader considered the request for a moment, reading his son’s intentions in the Force. He could sense the boy’s desire to run, but also his determination not to. It would probably be safe to remove his restraints, but Vader was not willing to chance it, to take the risk of the boy slipping through his fingers now that he had just found him.

“Once we reach the shuttle,” he promised. “We need to keep up appearances.”

Luke sighed, but nodded and took a step forward on his own to stand beside Vader. “Let’s go then.” His voice was low and resigned, grief and a small amount of tempered elation threading through it.

That elation sparked hope in Vader’s chest, an emotion he had not felt in a long time. Luke’s fear and sense of loss was strong, but if his son had accepted him and was even somewhat _excited_ by the prospect of being with him… Well. He could work with that.


	18. three sentence fics - Allegiance-verse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The last of the three sentence fics. This one is set in my _Allegiance_ -verse.

**Three sentences about Allegiance!Luke's relationship to Piett and/or Veers? :3**

Luke recognized him, when Piett brought him by, and knew who he was before the Admiral had the chance to introduce him. It was impossible not to, with all of the Empire’s “Hero of Hoth” propaganda and the Alliance’s backlash against the General in charge of one of the worst slaughters in the Alliance’s history. With General Veers’s reputation, Luke hadn’t expected him to be such a gentleman, though of course, as the Hero of Yavin, or the destroyer of the Death Star and mass murder of millions, depending on who you asked, he should have known better than to judge a man based on the tales told by his enemies.

 


	19. Vader lives - birthday present

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This wasn't a prompt, per se, but someone sent me an ask saying that chapter 12 of _Allegiance_ made them sad with Anakin/Vader feels, so I wrote them a fluffy Anakin and Luke bonding ficlet. It takes place in my "Vader lives post-ROTJ" 'verse that I started with the three sentence fics.

Palpatine had been dead for two years. Two years today, in fact, Luke remembered shortly after he had woken up and saw the date on his bedroom’s chrono. Two years since the confrontation on the second Death Star, since the Emperor’s lightning had licked across his body and left pale scars that were visible even now, since he had dragged his redeemed father to the Alliance and demanded that they save his life. Two years since the declaration of the New Republic and his father’s second rebirth, this time as informant and military advisor to Chancellor Mothma. That had taken some convincing, and there were still many people unhappy about it, but Mothma had remembered Anakin, and it had allowed for a peace agreement to be struck with the Imperial remnant. He was too valuable to destroy, especially when Luke had thrown his fate in with his father’s. Anakin hadn’t exactly been _pleased_ about that, but Luke knew that gamble had gone a long way towards saving his father’s life. No one was willing to kill or imprison or exile the Hero of Yavin and the last Jedi just to get rid of Vader.

Luke slipped out of his room and walked across the small apartment he shared with his father, heading for the kitchen. They could have easily afforded something larger, even considering that Anakin had donated a significant portion of his fortune to helping the New Republic get set up, as yet another sign of his goodwill. But neither Anakin nor Luke was used to extravagance, and their apartment was cozy and nice, and it meant they were constantly within seconds of each other. Just in case.

Anakin was already in the kitchen, making breakfast, standing with his back to Luke as he attended whatever was on the stove. He was always awake earlier than Luke, no matter when Luke got up, and he supposed Anakin still hadn’t gotten used to sleeping a normal amount of hours in a night. And they both still had nightmares, though the intensity and frequency seemed to be decreasing, if gradually.

“Good morning, Father,” Luke said, as he walked in. There was a mug of hot chocolate sitting in front of his place at the table, wisps of steam rising from it, and Luke grinned. He walked past it though, and ducked under his father’s arm, giving him a quick hug.

Anakin pulled him closer. “Good morning, Luke.” His voice was still quiet and raspy, the medics hadn’t been able to do anything about the damaged vocal cords, but between getting him proper medical care and Luke’s limited knowledge of Force healing, they’d been able to fix his lungs so he no longer needed to depend on life support. Luke knew that was a huge relief for his father, who was finally free of the mask and suit that Palpatine had put him in 23 years before. And Luke was glad to be able to actually see his father’s face. The scarring hadn’t healed much; there wasn’t a lot the medics had been able to do, but Luke didn’t care. The brief moment of horror he had felt when he first saw Anakin’s face had been at the thought of the pain the injuries must have caused, not at the sight of him. His acceptance of his father’s appearance helped Anakin be less self-conscious about it.

“One of these days, you will have to let me do the cooking, Father,” Luke said, knowing full well that even if his father agreed now, he would never actually let him.

“Maybe tomorrow,” his father said. Luke nudged him with his elbow and slipped out from under his arm. He walked back to the table and picked up his mug. It was still pleasantly warm, and he took a tentative sip. It didn’t scald his tongue, but it wasn’t too cold either. Perfect.

His father turned the stove off and carried their breakfast plates over to the table. They ate in comfortable silence, and once they had finished, Luke’s hand drifted down to his pocket.

“I, um, have something for you,” he said, not quite looking at his father. He pulled the two tickets out of his pocket and held them below the table. “I thought, it’s been two years, and we could use a break from the whole rebuilding-the-Galaxy thing and celebrate. I don’t know your birthday, but today’s as good a day as any, right?” Now he looked up to see his father staring at him curiously. Luke took a breath and held the tickets up, speaking quickly. “They’re running an annual race to commemorate the birth of the New Republic and fall of the Empire, and I thought you might enjoy going... with... me... What?”

Anakin was biting his lip, trying not to laugh, but his blue eyes were sparkling with embarrassed amusement. He raised his own gloved hand, holding two identical tickets. Luke groaned and dropped his head to the table just as his father lost control and started laughing.


	20. Vader lives - move in day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt-of-sorts was: "Can you tell us more about the day Luke and Anakin moved in together in your rotj au <3 ?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is something in between a ficlet and a tumblr not-a-fic, but it was enough like an actual ficlet to post here.

Luke had never specifically planned on moving in with his father. Getting a house or an apartment hadn’t been high on his list of things to do during the war, since he had just lived with the Alliance, and they were always on the run. And even after the war was over, he still hadn’t planned on settling down right away. There were Imperial remnants to track down, vestiges of the Inquisitors that, as a Jedi, he was pretty much the only one who _could_ deal with, and crime lords who wanted to move in to fill the vacuum of power left by Imperial governors and moffs.

But as his father was still recovering and undergoing numerous surgeries to fix the damage done two decades ago and all the subsequent damage from years of neglect and abuse, combat, and improper medical care, he needed somewhere stable and private to live between treatments, away from all the staring eyes and bustle of the medcenters. And Luke was reluctant to leave his side, so the apartment search slowly turned from “this would be good for you” to “this would be good for us,” and neither of them ever addressed the change out loud.

It was a good arrangement, and Luke thought it was probably inevitable that they end up there. His father needed someone with him, considering the somewhat shaky if improved state of his health, and they both tended to get nervous if they were apart for long periods of time. And Luke didn’t think he would trust anyone else with his father’s care and protection. Not that Anakin _needed_ someone to protect him. No, he was still just as formidable as always, but having a hero of the Alliance living across the hall did tend to give potential assassins pause. And anyone who might have wanted to hurt Luke would think twice about attacking him with his (in)famous father around.

The apartment they finally settled on was a modest but cozy affair not far from the newly rededicated Senate building, the proximity useful for both Anakin and Luke’s roles in the New Republic. Much of the move-in process was done quietly, and the building’s owner had been vetted and sworn to some level of secrecy involving his new tenants. The fewer people who knew exactly where the Skywalker family was living, the better.

Han, Chewie, and Rogue Squadron had shown up to help get the place ready, though neither Luke nor his father really had much in the way of possessions to bring in. Leia had made her apologies, citing a large stack of paperwork and governmental reforms to look over as her excuse, though she later made a traditional Alderaanian housewarming dessert for them. Luke suspected the gesture was more for him than their father, and he was never sure if she had intended for it to be a slight jab at Anakin or not. Regardless, it brought a hint of pain to his father’s eyes as he, presumably, remembered holding Leia back as the Death Star destroyed her planet.

By the time their guests and “move-in helpers” had left, both Luke and Anakin were too tired to do much more than flop onto the couch in their small living room. Luke curled up next to his father, and Anakin ran his fingers through Luke’s hair as they talked about inconsequential things, small stories from Luke’s childhood and anecdotes of the more bizarre situations Rogue Squadron had gotten themselves into, the idiocy of some Imperial governors and moffs and the ridiculous things officers had done to try to either avoid Vader’s attention or, in rare circumstances, gain it. Luke managed to drag a few stories of the Clone Wars out of his father, mostly about outlandish plans that shouldn’t have worked but had.

And later, as Luke was close to sleep with his head on his father’s shoulder, several precious whispers about his mother.


End file.
